Six Short Plays. Galsworthy John

him. But if I cannot see him sometimes, I shall die. Please do not take him from me.

      [She catches his hand and presses it desperately between her own.]

      KEITH. Leave that to me. I'm going to do all I can.

      WANDA. [Looking up into his face] But you will be kind?

      Suddenly she bends and kisses his hand. KEITH draws his hand away, and she recoils a little humbly, looking up at him again. Suddenly she stands rigid, listening.

      [In a whisper] Listen! Someone—out there!

      She darts past him and turns out the light. There is a knock on the door. They are now close together between door and window.

      [Whispering] Oh! Who is it?

      KEITH. [Under his breath] You said no one comes but Larry.

      WANDA. Yes, and you have his keys. Oh! if it is Larry! I must open!

      KEITH shrinks back against the wall. WANDA goes to the door.

      [Opening the door an inch] Yes? Please? Who?

      A thin streak of light from a bull's-eye lantern outside plays over the wall. A Policeman's voice says: "All right, Miss. Your outer door's open. You ought to keep it shut after dark, you know."

      WANDA. Thank you, air.

      [The sound of retreating footsteps, of the outer door closing. WANDA shuts the door.]

      A policeman!

      KEITH. [Moving from the wall] Curse! I must have left that door.

      [Suddenly-turning up the light] You told me they didn't know you.

      WANDA. [Sighing] I did not think they did, sir. It is so long I was not out in the town; not since I had Larry.

      KEITH gives her an intent look, then crosses to the fire. He stands there a moment, looking down, then turns to the girl, who has crept back to the couch.

      KEITH. [Half to himself] After your life, who can believe–? Look here! You drifted together and you'll drift apart, you know. Better for him to get away and make a clean cut of it.

      WANDA. [Uttering a little moaning sound] Oh, sir! May I not love, because I have been bad? I was only sixteen when that man spoiled me. If you knew–

      KEITH. I'm thinking of Larry. With you, his danger is much greater. There's a good chance as things are going. You may wreck it. And for what? Just a few months more of—well—you know.

      WANDA. [Standing at the head of the couch and touching her eyes with her hands] Oh, sir! Look! It is true. He is my life. Don't take him away from me.

      KEITH. [Moved and restless] You must know what Larry is. He'll never stick to you.

      WANDA. [Simply] He will, sir.

      KEITH. [Energetically] The last man on earth to stick to anything! But for the sake of a whim he'll risk his life and the honour of all his family. I know him.

      WANDA. No, no, you do not. It is I who know him.

      KEITH. Now, now! At any moment they may find out your connection with that man. So long as Larry goes on with you, he's tied to this murder, don't you see?

      WANDA. [Coming close to him] But he love me. Oh, sir! he love me!

      KEITH. Larry has loved dozens of women.

      WANDA. Yes, but–[Her face quivers].

      KEITH. [Brusquely] Don't cry! If I give you money, will you disappear, for his sake?

      WANDA. [With a moan] It will be in the water, then. There will be no cruel men there.

      KEITH. Ah! First Larry, then you! Come now. It's better for you both. A few months, and you'll forget you ever met.

      WANDA. [Looking wildly up] I will go if Larry say I must. But not to live. No! [Simply] I could not, sir.

      [KEITH, moved, is silent.]

      I could not live without Larry. What is left for a girl like me— when she once love? It is finish.

      KEITH. I don't want you to go back to that life.

      WANDA. No; you do not care what I do. Why should you? I tell you I will go if Larry say I must.

      KEITH. That's not enough. You know that. You must take it out of his hands. He will never give up his present for the sake of his future. If you're as fond of him as you say, you'll help to save him.

      WANDA. [Below her breath] Yes! Oh, yes! But do not keep him long from me—I beg! [She sinks to the floor and clasps his knees.]

      KEITH. Well, well! Get up.

      [There is a tap on the window-pane]

      Listen!

      [A faint, peculiar whistle. ]

      WANDA. [Springing up] Larry! Oh, thank God!

      [She runs to the door, opens it, and goes out to bring him in. KEITH stands waiting, facing the open doorway.]

      [LARRY entering with WANDA just behind him.]

      LARRY. Keith!

      KEITH. [Grimly] So much for your promise not to go out!

      LARRY. I've been waiting in for you all day. I couldn't stand it any longer.

      KEITH. Exactly!

      LARRY. Well, what's the sentence, brother? Transportation for life and then to be fined forty pounds'?

      KEITH. So you can joke, can you?

      LARRY. Must.

      KEITH. A boat leaves for the Argentine the day after to-morrow; you must go by it.

      LARRY. [Putting his arms round WANDA, who is standing motionless with her eyes fixed on him] Together, Keith?

      KEITH. You can't go together. I'll send her by the next boat.

      LARRY. Swear?

      KEITH. Yes. You're lucky they're on a false scent.

      LARRY. What?

      KEITH. You haven't seen it?

      LARRY. I've seen nothing, not even a paper.

      KEITH. They've taken up a vagabond who robbed the body. He pawned a snake-shaped ring, and they identified this Walenn by it. I've been down and seen him charged myself.

      LARRY. With murder?

      WANDA. [Faintly] Larry!

      KEITH. He's in no danger. They always get the wrong man first. It'll do him no harm to be locked up a bit—hyena like that. Better in prison, anyway, than sleeping out under archways in this weather.

      LARRY. What was he like, Keith?

      KEITH. A little yellow, ragged, lame, unshaven scarecrow of a chap. They were fools to think he could have had the strength.

      LARRY. What! [In an awed voice] Why, I saw him—after I left you last night.

      KEITH. You? Where?

      LARRY. By the archway.

      KEITH. You went back there?

      LARRY. It draws you, Keith.

      KErra. You're mad, I think.

      LARRY. I talked to him, and he said, "Thank you for this little chat. It's worth more than money when you're down." Little grey man like a shaggy animal. And a newspaper boy came up and said: "That's right, guv'nors! 'Ere's where they found the body—very spot. They 'yn't got 'im yet."

      [He laughs; and the terrified girl presses herself against him.]

      An innocent man!

      KEITH. He's in no danger, I tell you. He could never have strangled–Why, he hadn't the strength of a kitten. Now, Larry! I'll take your berth to-morrow. Here's money [He brings out a pile of notes and puts them on the couch] You can make a new life of it out there together presently, in the sun.

      LARRY. [In a whisper] In the sun! "A cup of wine and thou." [Suddenly] How can I, Keith? I must see how it goes with that